From Pinstriped and Italian Shoed Banker to Blue Collar Janitor Part VI: Now I Am the Teacher!
by James Wellington
(Chicago)
Your Mission, Jim, If You Choose to Accept It: Transform This Impeccably Corporate Executive Into a Blue Collar Garbageman!
Of all the remarkable surprises and changes that have taken place in my life since I left behind the world of corporate finance, the developments of the last few months have surprised me the most.
After many years of learning from others, I have found myself in the role of teacher and guide to those who are following the path I took. The reasons for their move away from a white collar and into a blue collar are usually very different than mine, but the adjustments are often exactly the same. I do not pretend to know all the answers and usually just allow them to talk. But it is a pleasure to be able to give something to others as my teachers gave to me.
The photo of the man above is a perfect example of the type I have been talking to recently. As former colleagues and friends hear about my story, they have referred to me men who are leaving the white-collar world and are entering a life they never thought they would even consider. The recent downturn in the economy is rapidly changing life for formerly successful people in finance and real estate. They find themselves downsized (the polite term for FIRED!) and they look around for a way to pay the bills. A manual job may await them, and a journey begins they didn't expect - or WANT!
I have recently remarried, and together my wife and I have coffee with these gentlemen as I try to prepare them for the new path they are entering. I chose the path. The ones I have spoken to did not. That is a very big difference. The attitude is very different - but once again, the changes are the same.
Four months ago, a corporate banker met with me a few days before a rumored layoff was supposed to take place. (It did happen as anticipated) He had just come from his office and a very difficult conversation with his wife, arrived dressed very much like the man in the photo, and with an expression of militant resistance on his face.
He drove up to our tiny house and got out of his Mercedes Benz looking like a man at the top of his game. He looked at me and his face turned red. I wore overalls and boots and had long beard. He clearly saw me as his future - and he didn't like what he saw. But he didn't say so.
He was buried in debt and his family was in need of complete insurance coverage. He had children in college and very little in savings. At the age of 46, he would have trouble finding a new job in finance immediately - and he would have to keep working at something even if he eventually returned to business.
How many people are in the same position?
He had found an ad for trash collectors; he would make a good salary and have full benefits. He told me he was planning to interview the following week. And he was dreading it.
This is a man with courage who is doing what he must to feed his family and provide for them. He would still look for other jobs, but it would take time - and perhaps not yield anything for many months. He was going to take a very difficult and demanding manual labor job after spending his life in the world of business.
What could I tell him?
Mostly I let him talk. I mentioned that all of this is happening for a reason he cannot yet see - but he could not yet accept it. That is understandable.
I tried to prepare him for the change in his life. At that point my wife tactfully left as his face changed and he became openly fearful and uncertain.
I asked him what designer had designed his very dapper tailored business suit and his smart necktie and his crisply starched white shirt and his polished shoes. He looked startled, and said "Brioni" and "Armani" and "Brooks Brothers" and "Lobb". I pointed to that pinstriped three-piece suit and the carefully knotted tie and told him "Lose the Brioni and the Armani and the Brooks Brothers". He would not be wearing those anymore. He would have to take those off very soon, and perhaps not wear them again for a very long time - if ever.
I had to try to make clear to him what was not yet real for him: He would be trading in his commanding Master of the Universe uniform for the jumpsuit of a garbage man. He would have to take off and say a quick goodbye to the very well polished and very smart looking Lobb shoes he was wearing (as I had a few years ago!) as well as the black dress socks. There would be no place for those on a garbage truck. lOBB shoes are among the finest men's shoes in the world. This would be a dramatic change indeed.
His eyebrows went up and his face turned red.
I told him he would be wearing sweat socks and work boots in his new life.
The monogrammed cufflinks and the tiepin and the wristwatch would have to come off as well. There would be no need for a briefcase.
My listener took in my words very seriously. I was saying things he had been afraid to think about, and yet he knew they were coming. He would no longer be in the position of leader and commander, but of subservient workman. He would not be looked upon with respect, but with condescension. I wanted him to know that so the transition might be a little easier.
I will point again to the photo of the serious looking executive above: Look at his hands. Those are the clean manicured hands of a white-collar businessman. They have not been used for menial work. I pointed at my listener's hands and told him that soon he would have dirt under his fingernails, and people would judge him for that.
He cringed slightly, but said nothing.
I told him that some would mock him for falling so low, and that he would not be allowed to forget for a while that he was now a blue-collar man. But he would also meet some fine people.
And as for his name! His FIRST name is Prescott and his middle name is Anthony! That was how he was always addressed at work. That is obviously an upper class name and would never be tolerated for a garbage man. I said nothing. But I knew he would lose that name along the way.
After the "tough talk", I encouraged him strongly. I told him he would learn a new life and many new people he would never have met if he had spent his life in the safe chrome and steel and glass office building.
I told him the world is filled with many interesting and worthwhile people who put their feet into socks made of heavy white cotton, not thin black silk, and dirty boots with steel toes, not expensive Italian wingtips of gleaming black leather, and he would now join the ranks of the white sock and work boot brigade! He would make friends and hear stories he would never have known otherwise. He looked at me very skeptically and looked at his shoes. It was clear he would rather keep them on and do without the lesson.
Just last week, he dropped by our small frame house. I barely recognized him. He had sold his Mercedes Benz to save money and now drove a used truck. He wore the soiled jumpsuit and boots that belong to a garbage man. The three piece suit and the tie and the Lobb shoes had vanished. For me, it was a powerful experience. It was like looking at my own change and myself. Grease and sweat covered his face, and his hands were rapidly morphing into those of a workman.
He even had grown a short but scruffy beard. There was nothing left of the impeccably clean-shaven financier he had been at our previous talk.
Unlike me, he was not rejoicing in his new life, but that is his path - not mine. But he was NOT complaining either. He was doing what he had to do and was facing up to it. I looked at his name tag and read "TONY".
As I had expected, the former financier had been stripped of his upper crust name as he fell off the white-collar ladder. The same thing had happened to me, as I have explained. His white collar middle name had been used, but blue-collarized. There is nothing as profound as taking away a man's name and giving him a new one. Prescott the Pinstriped Corporate Executive was now Tony the Garbage man.
This will not be the last step for him, or for me.
He thanks me for preparing him. He told me it had helped him understand and what to expect. He is not yet at peace, but there is not always peace on the path of change.
I shook his hand and said goodbye to a man who is learning more than he can yet know.
You may enjoy reading the entire series of articles by Jim Wellington where he shares his journey to finding his authentic self.
